Dishes
by strikelight angel
Summary: Urahara tried to get Ichigo to help him with his work, which Ichigo blatantly refused. But Urahara wasn’t one to give up easily, and Ichigo felt that it was getting increasingly difficult to say no to the other’s persuasion. Urahara X Ichigo


**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach or any of its affiliates.

**Warning:** Contain swearing, mild yoai

**Pairing: **Urahara/Ichigo

**Summary:** Urahara tried to get Ichigo to help him with his work, which Ichigo blatantly refused. But Urahara wasn't one to give up easily, and Ichigo felt that it was getting increasingly difficult to say no to the other's persuasion.

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**Dishes **

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It all started when Rukia aske- no, _threatened_ him to help her pass a few stuffs to Renji. All because she was too immersed in another new melodramatic novel she just bought, and subsequently, flooding his room with tissues. And he was forced to run her errand despite having a big assignment due tomorrow.

As if there weren't enough annoyances in his life.

God seemed to see it fit to add another. When he arrived at Urahara Shoten, Renji was not there, and neither were Tessai, Ururu and Jinta. So he decided to pass Rukia's stuff to Urahara instead. The problem was, just like Rukia, Urahara seemed intent on making life difficult for his already very pathetic life.

"You want me to help you to- to _wash your_ _dishes?!_" Ichigo repeated again, just to make sure his mind was still sane. "Are you fucking out of your min-"

"Aww come on, Kurosaki-san. It can't hurt to help the poor little me out a bit, right? Tessai and the others are out on an errand since yesterday, so the plates are pilling up in the kitchen!" Urahara drawled in his most 'serious' manner, as though his dirty plates should be Ichigo's utmost worry.

The orange-haired boy silently willed himself to calm down, even as his brows twitched in sheer irritation. Something the blond haired man was conveniently ignoring.

Ichigo sighed audibly. His shinigami duties had already taken up a large portion of his time, and if he didn't finish that assignment by tomorrow, the teacher would sure as hell kicked his ass back to the second grade. He didn't even have the time to sleep, let alone be wasted with this smiling shinigami who seemed not to have a care in the world.

Besides, people like Uaraha were best avoided if possible. Basically, those with too much free time and brain were a bad combination; they were breeders of misfortune.

Without deigning to say another word, Ichigo merely turned around and headed for the exit.

Only to find himself almost knocking headlong into the man he just turned away from. Ichigo was face to face _again_ with Urahara, who absurdly, less than a moment ago was _behind_ him. However, he had more pressing worries than Urahara's extraordinary shunpo.

The sudden close proximity with the said man was making him uncomfortable. So close, in fact; their faces were only inches away, and Ichigo could feel the man's breath on his face. Warning bells rang in his head.

In his haste to move back, to put some breathing distance between them, Ichigo almost stumbled. And for reasons even his mind couldn't comprehend, his eyes couldn't seem to look away from the finely-tuned face so close to him, too mesmerized by the other's deep orbs.

A firm hand on his arm easily prevented his intention, an action he had once again missed, because he was apparently too focused on the other man's face. The sudden skin contact sent an electrifying sensation through his body, which unfortunately further disrupted his already nonexistent intellect. "Wh-wha-"

"Now, now Kurosaki-sannnnn, there's no need to be so mean, right? There's so much stuff to do, and I obviously can't finish it alone", Urahara whined pitifully.

That was such a blatant lie that Ichigo couldn't help but snorted. Urahara was testing his patience, and the assignment due tomorrow wasn't an easy one. He _really _needed to get home and start on it.

The problem was, it seemed the ability of speech seemed to have _really _ditched him after several failed attempts. His brain couldn't even begin to form the simple sentence he needed to voice. Has he gone stupid?

And worse of all, Urahara was taking his silent as consent. "You're sooo nice, Kurosaki-san. Come on then"

However, Ichigo refused to give up that easily; it just wasn't in his nature. With a firmer resolve this time, Ichigo tried to repudiate him properly. "Look, I reall- wha"

For the third time, words failed him again as he was once again unceremoniously interrupted. The only difference was, instead of cutting him off with words this time; Urahara decided to _close_ what remain of the _very_ little distance between them, as he leaned completely into Ichigo.

Urahara let his other hand traveled teasingly down the teen's back, feeling the taut and rigid muscles behind the white cloth, their faces touching, before whispering seductively in his ear. "How about some remuneration after this, Ichigo?"

The unexpected use of his first name and the thick implications behind those words, matched by the lost of all his breathing and personal space, sent Ichigo's mind reeling. His newly-formed resolve shattered into a million pieces, with no hope of ever reforming. He was fighting a losing battle, as his body seemed to lose what little willed it had to struggle under the wondering hand of the other.

Urahara knew when a battle was won, so he began dragging his dazed price away, a wicked smile of triumph gracing his face, though it was hidden in a snap of his ever present fan.

Still, if the blond haired genius had known about how many of his plates were going to end up in separate chunks that evening, he might have held back a little on the poor innocent teen.

But then, the plates were probably worth nothing compared to the priceless look on the Ichigo's face.

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There you go. My first attempt on an Urahara/Ichigo fic. This idea comes from the spur of a moment, so I hope it turns out alright.

This was also written for livejournal bleach contest week 17 prompt; plates.

And lastly, PLEASE read and review!


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